


Say You Love Me

by Amethystina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I have only watched the first two seasons, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Season 3 Compliant, Or anything after it, it's just cute okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: When Stiles asks Derek if he loves him, he means it (mostly) as a joke.Of courseDerek doesn't love him — they barely even get along — and Stiles fully expects Derek to respond with an eye roll or a threat of murder.So, when Derek saysyes, Stiles has no idea what to do. Derek must be joking, right?Right?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 34
Kudos: 441





	Say You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> I bet this fandom thought it had seen the last of me. But here I am, four and a half years later, with a fic. A pretty short one, granted, but still.
> 
> Years ago, I asked for prompts from [THIS](https://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/post/146712778193/ghostling-four-word-prompts-please-come) post and [morgandeeyue](https://morgandeeyue.tumblr.com/) gave me "You love me, right?". That ask lay forgotten for four years until I suddenly decided to write this. Because that is how we do things around here.
> 
> Anyhow. It's pretty simple and mostly just cute. I hope you enjoy it!

The thing Stiles probably hated the most about Derek was his ability to leave him speechless. No, not speechless — _dumbfounded_. Not many could do that and certainly not as efficiently as Derek sometimes did.

The most frustrating part being that Derek wasn't even particularly quick-witted. Or at least he _hadn't_ been, not at the start. But perhaps hanging around a bunch of snarky teenagers had taught him a couple of things. Except he was still Derek, so he delivered the sarcastic quips with the same kind of deadpan flatness as usual, which sometimes made it difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

Knowing Derek and his sense of humor — or lack thereof — it was usually the latter, but still.

It was just _unnerving_ how flawlessly Derek could deliver a line, without giving his emotions away. Derek was difficult to read on a good day, but, on the bad ones, Stiles didn't have a single clue as to what might be running through their resident alpha's head.

Which, quite frankly, made his life pretty damn difficult on a more or less daily basis.

Derek didn't play by the same rules as everyone else and, clearly, didn't give a single fuck about what others might feel about that. He didn't respond to jokes like a normal person would, nor did he give the expected answers when asked questions.

Like that time he completely blindsided Stiles and told him that he loved him, possibly as a joke.

But possibly also _not_ as a joke.

They were at Derek's loft, as was often the case when the pack felt like hanging out, while Derek brooded in the background. He always put up a token protest whenever they showed up unannounced, huffing and puffing, but had never actually slammed the door in their faces. As much as the alpha didn't seem to want to admit it, he wasn't actually against having them all there. Perhaps because it was a testament to everything they had been through that they had, somehow, been able to end up as a pack after all, even if it had taken over a year after the kanima incident.

That night, the pack was playing a somewhat unorganized game of _Would You Rather_ while Derek stood staring out the window like the lurking shadow that he was, pretending to ignore them and their game.

It was when Erica asked 'Would you rather date Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster' that things started derailing — and, surprisingly, not because of the content of the question itself.

As per usual, every participant took the question a little _too_ seriously, but, when it was time for Stiles to answer, Jackson cut in before he had time to speak.

"I think a better question would be which one of those would even be _willing_ to date Stilinski."

"Hey! I take offense to that!" Stiles snapped back, sitting cross-legged next to a snickering Scott — the traitor. "I'll have you know that I'm _prime_ dating material."

"As shown by your dating history," Erica said, nodding sagely, her head resting comfortably in Boyd's lap. "How many dates have you been on, again?"

Stiles gave her the finger, mostly because they all knew Stiles hadn't been on all that many aside from that disastrous time he took Lydia to the winter formal. In his defense, it hadn't been Stiles's fault that particular date didn't turn out so well.

Erica only laughed in response, bright and musical. Stiles honestly didn't feel all that insulted — he could see the fondness radiating off of her — but he still felt a need to defend his pride.

"I am a _delight_ ," Stiles declared loudly, which only made Scott snicker more. "I am _plenty_ lovable."

There were scattered laughs around their circle and Stiles could practically _hear_ Derek roll his eyes. Which, naturally, Stiles had to acknowledge. Not just because this was _Derek_ and Stiles was notoriously bad at ignoring Derek — anything relating to their grumpy alpha was like an itch he couldn't help but scratch — but mainly because Derek was _clearly_ listening, despite pretending not to.

"Derek agrees," Stiles threw out, twisting to look at the alpha. "Don't you, Derek?"

The look Stiles received in return was, to say the least, unimpressed. _Stiles_ was impressed, however, albeit reluctantly — he had never met someone whose face could look so blank yet so suffering at the same time. It was a talent that Derek had perfected to an art.

Derek didn't move from where he stood by the window, but he did raise an exquisitely expressive eyebrow, as if to ask what Stiles was fishing for this time.

"You love me, right?" Stiles asked.

A part of him wondered if, maybe, he should have made it sound like more of a joke — for his own sake, really. That way, Stiles could simply accuse Derek of having a poor sense of humor if he decided to threaten Stiles with violence for his audacity. Done was done, however, the pack tittering in the background.

The expression on Derek's face didn't change in the slightest. If he was at all annoyed by the question, he didn't show it. Derek just keep looking at Stiles with that steady, unnerving intensity he sometimes got and, without meaning to, Stiles stopped breathing. Things became even worse when Derek actually replied.

"Yes."

Stiles blinked, his heart performing a complicated skip and twist he wasn't even sure how to interpret. Derek sounded shockingly sincere, to the point where Stiles couldn't even tell if he was joking or not.

He had to be — _of course_ he was joking — but it didn't _sound_ like he was.

Stiles stared at Derek, too stunned to think of a reply in the awkward seconds that followed. He knew he should say something — or at the very least try to laugh the comment off — but he was infuriatingly dumbfounded. Stiles had been prepared for a flat glare and maybe a suffering sigh in reply to his question, but not _that_.

Not something so dangerously close to what Stiles always found himself wishing for in his most honest, vulnerable moments — those thoughts he kept buried so deep inside himself they'd hopefully never see the light of day.

Derek didn't know, did he? Had he figured it out?

He _couldn't_ have. Derek wasn't exactly known for his social prowess and Stiles _knew_ he kept his own feelings hidden. It was partly due to embarrassment, to be honest. What kind of masochistic idiot fell in love with _Derek Hale_ , of all people?

Not that Derek was a bad person by any means — quite the opposite, once you looked past the gruff exterior — but he wasn't a particularly pleasant one, either. You had to be a glutton for punishment to fall in love with someone as prickly as Derek.

Which, then again, considering that the other big love of Stiles life was _Lydia_ , probably just showed that he had a rather specific type — terrifying, gorgeous, and way out of his league.

It was Scott who eventually broke the silence, his amused snort echoing through the loft.

"Very funny, Derek," Scott said. "You need to work on your sarcasm."

Only then did Derek look away from Stiles. His gaze turned to Scott instead, exasperation bleeding back into his expression. He didn't say anything, instead choosing to merely roll his eyes again and turn back to the window, clearly signaling that he was done with the conversation.

Stiles managed a faint laugh, but it sounded jarring to his own ears, partly drowned out by how loud his heart was beating. He was a little more shaken than he wanted to admit, especially since he knew it must have been a joke. Derek would never say something like that and actually mean it. He had no reason to. He had never, in the years he and Stiles had known each other, shown any indication that what he said might be true.

Had he?

Even as the others started talking again, the game continuing, Stiles found himself glancing back at Derek. The alpha didn't acknowledge him or his looks — which came as no surprise — but he had to be aware of them.

Stiles forced himself to look away, before he made things too obvious. He could feel Lydia's eyes on him and even if he suspected that she already knew she was no longer the object of his affections — no matter how often he proclaimed that she was — he didn't want her to reveal that to the others. Derek especially. Derek must _never_ know.

Stiles was foolish for ever hoping — even for a second — that Derek's comment had been anything but a joke. It _had_ to be. Derek had no reason to fall in love with Stiles, and certainly not declare it in front of the pack with such conviction. It was a joke. Of course it was.

Stiles would do well to put it out of his mind and forget about it entirely.

* * *

Stiles couldn't forget about it. He really, really tried, but it was downright impossible. Partly because of his own feelings, suppressed as they were, but also because he couldn't quite shake the thought that, maybe, Derek _hadn't_ been joking. Again, he was foolish for even hoping, but could anyone blame him? Wasn't it natural to want the person you were interested in to reciprocate?

Even so, Stiles did his best to hide his conflicting thoughts. It wouldn't do to have the pack or, God forbid, Derek find out about it.

Unfortunately for him, that was easier said than done. The pack hung out _a lot_ and Derek was a more or less constant presence in the background whenever they did. And Stiles had always had a hard time ignoring Derek. He was _constantly_ aware of the alpha, now more so than ever, and feared that every time he talked to Derek or even looked at him, the others would figure out the unholy thoughts Stiles was hiding.

Some distance was clearly necessary.

Not that he and Derek were close — not as close as Stiles would like, at least — but they certainly had _some_ kind of special relationship. One that was a mix of sarcastic bickering and thinly veiled threats, sure, but it was _theirs_. Stiles wouldn't say that Derek was particularly fond of him, but he didn't treat anyone else the way he treated Stiles. Which, granted, might not necessarily be a good thing, but beggars can't be choosers.

And Stiles was only just above begging at that point.

But he refused to let that show. Partly because of pride, but mostly because he didn't want to piss Derek off. If Derek had been joking, the last thing he wanted was for Stiles to suddenly reveal that he'd been pining after him the past year or so. Stiles couldn't picture that playing out in a way that _didn't_ result in him getting injured or kicked out of the pack.

So, he needed to put some distance between Derek and himself, just to be safe. It wasn't even difficult. He just made sure not to initiate conversation as often as he usually would and kept an actual physical distance whenever possible. Again, it wasn't like they were close and considering the number of suffering eye rolls Stiles had gotten over the time they'd known each other, Derek might actually enjoy not having Stiles constantly pestering him for attention.

And if his new behavior awarded him weird looks from the rest of the pack? Well, Stiles was known to be the weird one. Though he had to admit it was kind of funny that the _one_ time he tried to act like a decent human being — that was to say, one that didn't heckle their alpha — everyone thought he was acting out of character.

Stiles supposed that said quite a lot about his usual behavior.

Even so, distancing himself from Derek was for the best. An offhand joke wasn't a good enough reason to risk the stability of the entire pack. Instead, Stiles should focus on hiding his feelings and not making Derek suspicious.

No matter what it took, no one could know that Stiles was in love with Derek. He'd hidden it for a year already — he just had to keep going.

Everything would be fine.

* * *

It only took a little over a week before Lydia pulled him aside and asked what was wrong with him. Which, to tell the truth, surprised Stiles quite a bit. On the list of people he thought might try to talk to him about his sudden change in behavior, she barely even made the top five. Then again, Lydia was frighteningly astute and had no patience whatsoever for people's bullshit.

So, on second thought, it made perfect sense.

Especially since she phrased the question kind of like he had an infectious disease — which, _rude_. Stiles decided to play dumb, just to be a little shit.

"There's something wrong with me? I haven't noticed."

Lydia was having none of it, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him an impressively withering look. She even passed up on the chance to point out that there's _always_ something wrong with Stiles.

"Did something happen between you and Derek?" she asked instead.

Stiles desperately reminded himself to stay cool — he couldn't let Lydia know just how much that question rattled him.

"What? No! Of course not. I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

So much for keeping it cool.

Lydia raised an eyebrow and Stiles, predictably, had to fight an urge to squirm. Lydia was _terrifying_.

"You've been acting strange," she said. "You're distancing yourself and the others are getting suspicious. So is Derek."

Well. That was the complete _opposite_ of what Stiles wanted. He was trying to distance himself so that Derek would get _less_ suspicious, or at the very least got fewer opportunities to figure out how Stiles felt about him. He _had_ succeeded with the latter, at least.

"Did what he said affect you that much?" Lydia continued.

Despite his best intentions, Stiles froze. He even stopped breathing. He knew he was being _painfully_ obvious, but he couldn't help it. With some effort, he managed to force out a reply, even if he was lying through his teeth:

"What he said when? I don't follow."

At that point, the look Lydia gave him was downright disapproving, as if he has gravely disappointed her somehow. Which, all things considered, wasn't unlikely.

"Stiles, avoiding him isn't a good way to handle this." Lydia placed her hands on her hips, as if she in any way needed to make her disapproval more obvious.

"I think it's a _great_ way to handle it," Stiles replied without thinking. How else was he supposed to hide his inconvenient feelings?

Lydia frowned.

"I thought you were better than that, Stiles," she said, shaking her head.

Most of the time, Stiles could accept criticism without taking too much offense, but something about her tone made his hackles rise. She kept going before he had time to defend himself, however.

"If you're that bothered by his feelings for you, you should tell him to his face."

"I have no idea—"

Stiles cut himself off, her words finally registering. _Derek's_ feelings for _him_?

Wait, what?

Stiles stared at Lydia, but she was either unconcerned by his reaction or didn't notice — probably the former — since she just kept talking.

"I understand it might be awkward, but avoiding him like this is downright cruel — a lot crueler than I thought you capable of. If you—"

Stiles was barely listening to what she was saying, still stuck on that one little detail he was pretty sure he must have misheard.

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second. Back up," he interrupted, hands flailing. "His feelings for me?"

Lydia gave him a look that clearly stated he was being an idiot.

"Yes, his feelings for you — the very same feelings that, clearly, made you so upset you decided to ignore and avoid him." She shook her head. "Is this some kind of internalized homophobia? I thought you had come to terms with your bisex—"

"No, no, hang on!" Stiles interrupted again, gesturing perhaps a bit more wildly than necessary.

Lydia fell silent, even if she didn't look too happy about it. Stiles swallowed, trying to process the new information while also breathing through the inexplicable tightness in his chest. Neither was going particularly well.

He _must_ have heard her wrong.

"He... he has feelings for me?"

Again, the look Lydia gave him was none to flattering to Stiles's mental capacity.

"Yes, Stiles. He told you so himself, didn't he?"

"No, but—" Stiles faltered, a little overwhelmed by the sudden flare of hope. "He was joking. Right? Everybody thought he was joking!"

Lydia rolled her eyes.

" _Scott_ thought he was joking. And since when do we listen to Scott when it comes to observations and reaching important conclusions?"

Well, she had a point there. Scott didn't notice some things even if they were right in front of him. Not because he was stupid or anything, but because he often had a bad case of tunnel vision and selective awareness.

That didn't mean Lydia had to be right, though. As perfect as Stiles always claimed that she was, she could still be wrong. How could she possibly know what Derek was feeling? He was about as easy to read as a rock on most days.

"But he... he never said anything," Stiles said weakly, feeling like he had to protest somehow. Not because he didn't want her to be right — he _desperately_ wanted her to be — but because he'd spent so much time trying to convince himself it couldn't be true.

Derek _had_ to have been joking when he said he loved Stiles. They couldn't _both_ have feelings for each other, could they? Without having told anyone?

"And you did?" Lydia deadpanned.

Well, no — Stiles clearly hadn't. Which could explain why Derek hadn't, either. Out of the two of them, Derek was a lot less used to being vocal and talking about his feelings. His track record when it came to emotions and trusting people wasn't exactly great, either. _If_ he had feelings for Stiles, _of course_ he would be hesitant to bring them up on his own. He'd be afraid of how badly it could backfire and just what would happen if Stiles didn't return his feelings. Considering all the bad experiences Derek had had over the years, he'd assume the worst. Like Stiles hating him or that he'd start avoiding him and never talk to Derek again. Kinda like—

Oh.

 _Oh no_.

As realization dawned, Stiles slapped his hands over his face, his stomach twisting up tight into a heavy knot of anxiety.

"Oh _God_ , he thinks I hate him."

"Pretty much," Lydia replied, sounding insufferably calm.

"Holy _shit_ ," Stiles whispered empathically, allowing his hands to sink into his hair. "I wasn't— I mean, I _was_ , but not because—"

He gave up on finishing the sentence, settling for staring helplessly at Lydia instead. Fortunately, she took pity on him.

"Go talk to him." Her tone left no room for arguments — not that Stiles had any intention of doing something that stupid. "Explain that you're an idiot and that you need to straighten things out between the two of you."

Stiles nodded, pathetically grateful to be told what to do — he clearly wasn't to be trusted with decision-making right now. Though, arguably, his intentions had been good, it just turned out his efforts weren't necessary and had given Derek the entirely wrong idea. Fucking _hell_.

He had to find Derek — sooner rather than later.

Stiles was just about to turn around and leave when he remembered his manners. He focused back on Lydia and took a deep, trembling breath.

"Thank you, Lydia." He honestly could have kissed her out of gratitude, but suspected she wouldn't appreciate that. "You are perfection in human form."

"I know," Lydia replied, before making a shooing motion. "Go. Talk to Derek."

After one last nod, Stiles did as told.

* * *

The expression on Derek's face when he slid open the door to the loft was so blank Stiles couldn't help feeling a little concerned. Derek was difficult to read, yes, but he was rarely expressionless — his eyebrows spoke an entirely own language, for heaven's sake.

It wasn't even a stiff, stony kind of blankness — the kind that belied more fiery emotions underneath — but a forced kind of vacancy that showed that, clearly, Lydia had been right. Derek was uncomfortable in Stiles's presence, probably because he didn't know what to expect, and chose blankness over showing what he actually felt.

Stiles swallowed down his nerves and, with some effort, managed to speak.

"We need to talk."

Derek didn't move. His expression didn't change, either, which was incredibly disconcerting. Usually, he would have given _some_ indication that he found Stiles's habit of talking an annoyance, either by rolling his eyes or giving a suffering sigh. Now he just stood there, silently waiting for Stiles to continue.

That didn't exactly encourage Stiles to continue, even if he knew he had to.

"Can I come in?"

Stiles would rather not do this in the hallway. Not because Derek had nosy neighbors — Stiles had never even _seen_ the other occupants in the building, though he had been told there were some — but because Stiles hoped he could avoid Derek's flat staring if they were inside the loft.

A silence settled between them, Derek's face remaining expressionless to the point of it being downright creepy. Stiles started wondering if he'd even heard the question. But then Derek let out a slow, controlled breath — kind of like a drawn-out sigh — before he turned away from the door. The fact that he left it open for Stiles was as close to an invitation as he was going to get.

Stiles hurried in after Derek, sliding the door shut with slightly shaking hands. This hadn't started off particularly well, but Stiles was determined to see it through, no matter what. If nothing else, he'd do it because Derek seemed more affected by Stiles's avoidance tactics than he'd expected.

Or maybe he had just chosen not to see it — that was easier, after all. That way, he didn't have to face the consequences of his own behavior.

On the drive over to the loft, Stiles had thought back on the — unusually few — interactions he and Derek had had over the past couple of days and there was no denying he wasn't the only one who had been acting differently. Just like Stiles, Derek had kept his distance, but he had done so with a hint of sadness and resignation that Stiles hadn't wanted to inspect further.

Derek had seen what Stiles was doing and reached his own conclusions as to the reason. They were the _wrong_ reasons, but Stiles couldn't blame Derek for reaching them. He hadn't exactly made it easy for him.

When Stiles turned to face Derek, he felt a mix of nerves and guilt. He needed to set things right and, with some luck, Lydia would be right about Derek's feelings for Stiles. The prospect of also revealing his own feelings was daunting, but Stiles supposed they'd reached the point where he had to. He'd painted them both into a corner.

Stiles cleared his throat, wincing as the sound echoed in the still depressingly barren loft. Someone really should force Derek to get some more furniture, or at least a couple of curtains.

"So, uh..." Stiles trailed off, not sure where to start.

Derek turned to face him and, finally, there was a hint of emotion on his face. The fact that it was resignation was perhaps not very uplifting, but at least that horrible blankness was gone.

"I... well..."

 _God_ , could this get any worse?

And Stiles knew for a fact that Derek wouldn't be the one to start this conversation, mostly because he didn't even know what conversation Stiles was trying to have. Derek clearly _thought_ he knew, judging by the forlorn look on his face, but he couldn't be more wrong. Stiles wasn't there to cut Derek out of his life — he wanted to make him an even bigger part of it. He just had to get the words out. Which usually wouldn't be a problem for him, but _of course_ Stiles's motormouth failed him just when he needed it the most.

Stiles took a deep, fortifying breath.

"I'm an idiot and I need to straighten things out between the two of us."

Derek pressed his lips together, clearly bracing himself for what was to come, but didn't look away. He held Stiles's gaze, surprisingly fearless considering what he no doubt thought was going to happen. Stiles definitely wouldn't have been able to, had their roles been reversed. He'd be doing his damndest to escape the conversation entirely, but Derek was facing it head on. Not happily, clearly, but with a resignation that showed just how often he'd been hurt and let down in the past.

Stiles took a step closer, feeling a desperate need to decrease the distance between them.

"It's not what you think," he said, fumbling to find the words that would explain his behavior without also forcing him to blurt out a sudden love confession. He'd get there — or at least he _hoped_ he would — but he wasn't sure if that was the best place to start. "I've been acting strangely lately and I know you've noticed, but I don't think you understand why."

Derek let out a short sigh, which was maybe closer to a disbelieving huff. Stiles hurried along.

"I wasn't trying to avoid you because of what you said." Stiles realized he was fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt and quickly let go. "Or, well, _yes_ , it was because of what you said, but the _reason_ isn't the one you think."

Finally, Derek acted a little bit like his usual self and rolled his eyes, his impatience getting the better of him.

"Just get to the point, Stiles."

Only someone like Derek would be in such a hurry to, as far as he knew, get dumped.

"I didn't want you to see how much I liked it," Stiles blurted out. Despite his best efforts, he glanced away, a little too embarrassed and nervous to look straight at Derek. "What you said, I mean. I... I wanted it to be true. But that seemed too good to be, well, _true_ so I kept telling myself it had to be a joke." Stiles swallowed. "And I decided I couldn't let you see that because you might get angry, so I decided to start avoiding you. It just... seemed like a good idea at the time."

The silence was deafening. Understandably so, considering the bombshell Stiles had just dropped, but that didn't exactly help with his nerves. He was _pretty_ sure Derek wouldn't hate him, but there was always a slight risk that Lydia might be wrong about the whole thing. If that was the case, Stiles had just revealed his innermost secrets to someone who really didn't want him to.

At the sound of movement, Stiles looked up, just in time to watch Derek pinch the bridge of his nose. Stiles hadn't expected that gesture to fill him with such relief, but it did. Mostly because it was coupled with an exasperated sigh — the one Derek gave Stiles on a regular basis and constituted one of the cornerstones of their somewhat unconventional yet satisfying relationship.

"Are you serious right now?" Derek asked, but there was a hint of something warm in his tone — something hopeful. He didn't look like he thought Stiles was lying, which had definitely been a possibility. One that would have been difficult and time-consuming to work through.

"Like a kanima attack," Stiles replied.

Derek lowered his hand and gave Stiles a look that could best be described as very reluctant fondness. He didn't have to say anything to show just how stupid he thought Stiles had been — which Stiles deserved, to be honest. Stiles could, arguably, have handled this situation better.

"But, look at it from the bright side," Stiles said, taking another couple of steps closer. "This conversation wouldn't have happened without me being such an idiot."

There was a small twitch at the corner of Derek's mouth, as if he was trying to hold back a smile.

"And what conversation is that?"

Stiles smiled, this time not minding the nervous flutter in his stomach.

"The one where I ask you out," he replied.

Derek raised an amused eyebrow.

"Or you can ask _me_ out, if that's what you prefer," Stiles amended.

Derek let out a small scoff and shook his head.

"I can't say I care."

The way he looked at Stiles was intense to say the least, but in the best way possible.

"But you'll go out with me?" Stiles asked, just to be sure. He didn't want any more misunderstandings. Things were clearly a little bit fragile still — that love confession would have to wait, at least a little while — but that was fine. Stiles could be patient if he had to be.

He could be patient for Derek.

"Yes, Stiles," Derek replied, rolling his eyes despite the smile he was fighting, "I'll go out with you."

Stiles grinned, wide and happy. Lydia had been right after all — Stiles never should have doubted her — and, all of a sudden, Stiles had a shot at something he'd been pining after for a year but never thought he could have. He had no idea what it would entail to be dating Derek and how their relationship might evolve, but he was eager to find out.

Judging by the look on Derek's face, he agreed.

 _Awesome_.

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie, I have REALLY missed writing Stiles's POV. You get to be so creative.
> 
> Anyhow. This is my [Tumblr](https://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/) (but I can't guarantee it will contain anything Sterek) and I hope you're taking care of yourself. Until next time, my lovelies! (which might very well be another four and a half years — don't judge me)


End file.
